Hospital: Part 1

March 8, 2009

My memory of being in hospital is clouded by the drugs they were pumping into me. The memory fades even more as time progresses so I decided it is time to get it down.

I woke up that morning to find it had snowed all night, sparking the discussion “drive or TTC”. Bundled up against the elements, my husband, Dad, and I ended up walking down the sidewalk, single file towards the TTC station. The mood was heavy, and while standing on the train I could see the worry on their faces.

I scanned the people around me, what were they doing that day? What were their hopes and fears, what challenges would they face? I felt isolated and different, while these people were eating lunch, I would be wheeled into an operating room for a craniotomy to have a meningioma removed.

St. Michaels ran like a well oiled machine. Within 5 minutes of arriving I had an ID bracelet on and was in a hospital gown. A nurse called Judy started an IV. She told me that they like to get my neurosurgeon’s patients admitted and on an IV as soon as possible, as he likes things to be done, and likes them to be done on time. Another nurse came in and took blood, and not long after an orderly came by and wheeled me downstairs for a CT scan.

As quickly as the orderly arrived to take me for my CT, they left. I lay on a bed in the corridor, my husband and Dad hanging around with me. Patients, technicians, and doctors came in and out of the CT rooms, but no-one came to get me. Eventually Dr. Muller emerged from the stairwell, exclaiming “There you are!” No one had brought the patient to him, so he came to find the patient himself. Apparently I didn’t need another CT, in fact he had just been studying my CT from December in preparation for surgery, and that was all he needed.

The neurosurgeon wheeled me with enrourage in tow, up to the 9th floor and the final waiting area before you get wheeled into the operating room. When was the last time you ate or drank anything? Are you allergic to anything? Have you or anyone in your family had problems with anaesthesia? Do you have any loose teeth? The neurosurgeon, the neurosurgeon’s senior resident, the nurse, another nurse, the anaesthetist, and yet another anaesthetist all asked me the same questions. Very thorough!

Not long after the nurse arrived to wheel me into the operating room. It was hard to say goodbye to my family, and I suddenly realised how frightened I was without them around me. Big double doors opened, and the bed glided through into a long, wide corridor. On the right were windows, it was still snowing and gloomy outside. On the left was one operating room after another. Some doors were open, some were closed, but all were quiet and were full of people shuffling around. Next thing I knew I was being wheeled into one.

The first thing I saw was a shelving unit full of metal contraptions, and I am pretty sure my blood pressure went through the roof at that point! There must have been 8 people or more in there, quietly moving around readying things. Machines were everywhere, as were IVs, and trays of vials. Once on the operating table, my arms were pulled out into a cross position and placed on their own supports. A nurse on one side, an anaesthetist on the other, IVs were going in on both sides. They were calm and so incredibly kind, I was terrified and was pretty much bawling my eyes out. That is until they gave me a sedative and I immediately stopped and became Miss Chatterbox. I think thats when they knocked me out…

About me and this blog

This blog is about navigating a glitch in the road. On Dec 2nd 2008 I found out I had an Olfactory Groove Meningioma, a benign tumour on the meninges — the membranes that surround your brain and spinal cord.

The little bugger was removed surgically by craniotomy on Jan 28th 2009. Recent times have led me to spend a lot of time with my GP, neurosurgeon, neurologist, naturopath, and osteopath, and this is an account from diagnosis through recovery.

I hope this provides some insight to family, friends, and those who are embarking on the same journey. In my own insignificant way, I'd like to raise awareness of meningiomas and help in early detection, if just for one person.